


Cutthroat Kitchen

by CallMeCheerios



Category: Fandoms: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Chef AU, Cooking Competition AU, Cutthroat Kitchen AU, Food Network AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 06:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeCheerios/pseuds/CallMeCheerios
Summary: Armitage Hux, a professionally trained chef, wants to open his own restaurant. Winning Cutthroat Kitchen seems like the best way to make some cash and make that goal happen.





	1. The Contestants

**Author's Note:**

> This is far less shippy than my fics usually are--especially for this pairing. I hope that's alright.

_ Hi, my name is Armitage Hux, and I’m the executive chef at L’Escoffier in New York City. I studied at the International Culinary Center and specialize in elevated cuisine that employs the principles of molecular gastronomy. I’m on Cutthroat Kitchen because I want to open my own restaurant. I have no doubt that I’m the best chef here today, and I know that despite whatever sabotages they throw my way, I’ll still win.  _

Hux had to do the stupid intro almost a dozen times. They kept asking him to reintroduce himself and would follow up with the same boring, canned questions Hux had already answered. It didn’t help that they kept pushing him to talk about his childhood, family, why he’d started cooking, blah blah blah. That was none of their business. Sure every show seemed to match a formula. One chef had overcome adversity like poverty or addiction or both. Another wanted to make their Nonna who taught them to cook proud. Usually there was only one woman, and there was always someone who was overconfident. Maybe that was Hux, but he didn’t think so. He’d earned his sense of superiority fair and square, although time would tell if whoever pieced together all the footage agreed. 

Hux was competitive and combative on his best days and definitely not someone to trifle with on his worst. He knew this about himself and wasn’t about to apologize for it. So it seemed to go without saying that he didn’t do cheery. Hux supposed that was what the producers wanted him to be. They wanted him to twitch with excitement and be thrilled to be there. That wasn’t what Hux was about. He was a chef, goddammit, not a puppy. He didn’t get emotional. He was passionate, yes. He’d poured his heart and soul--yes, he had one of those despite being a ginger, fuck you very much--into his culinary skills. If people didn’t like it, too bad. He’d never cared much about what people thought, and he had no doubt that once the episode was spliced together he’d come out looking like a bully and a villain. So be it. 

He was here to win. He supposed he wanted the money and the title in equal measure. They went hand in hand, although if there was an easier way to take home a large wad of cash, he’d have gone that route. Of course that was the crux of it all. He had to bet away his potential winnings in an effort to stay ahead. All the contestants started out with $25,000. If he spent everything, he’d have nothing left even if he won. And if he saved his money and didn’t win, he’d still walk away empty handed. He had to be smart about this, bid logically, and play the game. Hux could do all of those things in his sleep. He knew that his culinary skills and years spent in a kitchen despite any of the challenges he’d face in the Cutthroat Kitchen today. 

Hux was the first competitor in the kitchen, granted station number one and left to wait while his opponents entered. Other than generally feeling smug, Hux’s confidence was due in part to having something of an idea what he’d be up against. He had no idea what the available sabotages would be, but he did know who would be sharing the screen with him when the show aired. Each contestant had been given a dossier containing the relevant information on their fellow competitors. Hux firmly believed factors that couldn’t be captured on a resume didn’t matter much. If you were an insufferable asshole, so be it as long as that asshole could do their job. 

Hux figured the vague idea of who he was up against was more than enough to tell him what he needed to know. But the dossiers hadn’t prepared him for his reaction to Chef Ren walking down those stairs, knife role in hand. Ren was tall and broad shouldered and looked menacing. Hux was immediately on edge. Prior to seeing Ren, Hux was sure the self-proclaimed “rebel chef” who liked to think outside the box and throw away the rules, was no match for himself. 

_ My name is Kylo Ren, I own the Carnage Asada food truck in New York City. I started cooking in my teens, mostly just throwing things together for an afternoon snack. I liked to see what I could come up with, how creative I could make my dishes and have it still be edible. Food should be fun and exciting, unique and maybe a little dangerous. I like making things I don’t think people will have had before with an edgy twist. If I can make it into a burrito, even better. Since I’m used to working in a small space with limited resources and experimenting with unusual ingredients, I think I’ll definitely win.  _

Chef Kylo Ren was Hux’s complete and total opposite when it came to culinary styles. Where Hux was disciplined, Ren was a dangerous wild card, or so he wanted people to believe. It certainly matched the look he had going on, although Hux couldn't have predicted that. Ren had jet black hair that was swept back, held off of his face by a black bandana with skulls and crossbones on it, and piled into a messy bun. He was wearing black skinny jeans and black Converse. His chef’s coat hugged his broad shoulders and floated away from his narrow waist. He’d rolled up the sleeves to reveal dark, swirling, black and grey style tattoos. He was maybe a little taller than Hux but had the kind of build that made him seem to tower over his designated work station as he came to stand before it. Hux couldn’t believe he’d have any idea what to do with any of the items found there, even as Ren surveyed him quietly. Ren wasn’t quite scowling, but it was a close thing. His face held an intensity that Hux refused to shrink back from. So Hux simply crossed his arms and stared right back. 

It was customary for contestants to trade playful insults and start the competition on a petty note. Hux had steeled himself for trash talking and was committed to avoiding it at all costs. He’d reminded himself not to rise to the bait and to simply shrug off anyone’s inadequate attempts to get under his skin. The day was going to be difficult enough without any added distractions. He didn’t need to hurl cheap, slanderous sound bites to prove himself. Hux was better than them anyways and would prove it with his culinary prowess. 

Ren looked at Hux and his crossed arms. Then he delivered a nonchalant bro nod, a simple raising of his chin in Hux’s general direction accompanied by a quiet “Sup?” It wasn’t at all what Hux has expected of their exchange. There was something akin to approval in that gesture that Hux couldn’t quite fathom. It made no sense, so it was clearly part of Ren’s tactic Hux surmised. Ren was clearly letting his own confidence and acute focus speak for him. It was what Hux had planned to do. It wasn’t all that surprising that someone else would have the same plan, although Hux didn’t have the same lumbering stature and brooding features Ren did. Hux wasn’t sure he compete with Ren’s aloofness.

Hux also didn’t understand why Ren was pretending to be so calm and disinterested. Ren radiated something that could easily turn sinister if provoked, and something in Hux found that intriguing to the point of being infuriating. It was unacceptable that Hux’s eyes were drawn to Ren as though there was no one and nothing else in the room. Ren was intense, but he was being subtle, gentle for some reason. Hux raised an eyebrow, a vague gesture of question, that was met with a grin from Ren. Time seemed to stand still as the corners of Ren’s previously pouting mouth curled upwards. He was amused, and that made Hux’s nerves pull taut. His body didn’t know what to make of that anymore than his mind did, and it was like his whole being was gearing up to spring apart in the confusion. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation, but Hux refused think too hard about what that could mean. He had to focus and would not allow himself to be distracted by the degenerate posing as a chef. Hux stood firm, arms still crossed, and didn’t return Ren’s smile. 

And that was that. Ren had finished his assessment of Hux, all-too-quickly, and moved on to wait as the next contestant traipsed down the stairs and claimed her own station. She was a petite brunette with her hair pulled back. Her chefs coat, a dark gray like Hux’s, showed she had strong shoulders and a lean frame. She also seemed somewhat menacing, although the authenticity of that seemed questionable to Hux. 

_ I’m Chef Rey. I may look sweet, but I’m deadly with a knife. I’m a certified master butcher and the only female master butcher in my state. I’ve always learned best by doing, so I don’t have a formal culinary education, but I’m here to prove that I can cook better that everyone else in the kitchen. Growing up, I always had to fend for myself--it was eat or be eaten as they say. I plan to bid hard and fast. They won’t know what hit them! _

“Prepare to have your asses handed to you, boys,” Rey commanded matter-of-factly That was one way to set the tone, Hux supposed, although he was tempted to roll his eyes at her aggressively transparent tactic. Rey was stern looking. She held her head high and her shoulders back. Her posture was ramrod straight, something Hux usually approved of but found less charming on her. Then again apparently that was her schtick. This was how she was going to be known on the show--uptight and eager to prove herself. Hux wondered if she always carried herself like that, or if she was extra puffed up just for the show. Hux would bet money it was the latter. It was a waste of effort to appear more menacing for his and Ren’s sake, and Hux could tell putting up with it would be exhausting. It didn’t help that her posturing had nothing on Ren’s legitimately intimidating presence. Hux felt his composure and oath to stay neutral and not engage falter. He rolled his eyes.

“Careful, or that chip on your shoulder is going to slow you down,” Hux said. It was an honest, if not mean-spirited, assessment. Hux could tell by Rey’s deepening scowl that he’d struck a nerve. He considered himself to be a good judge of character. He usually knew within moments if someone had what it took to make it in the kitchen. If Rey walked into his kitchen, he’d never hire her. She had too much to try to prove, and Hux knew right off the bat that it’d be an impediment. Sadly he didn’t get the same impression from Ren. Ren it seemed could handle himself much to Hux’s chagrin. It was completely contrary to what Hux had assumed based on Ren’s resume, and Hux was loath to admit it to himself. It didn’t help that Ren turned to him with a conspiratorial smirk. Clearly Ren had appreciated the remark, but Hux had no desire to side with Ren.

“Although I’m sure you’ll still out pace a glorified line cook like Ren here,” Hux added, turning his attention to Ren. Rey’s lips pitched upwards for the briefest moment. Ren for his own part narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then his smirk became even more pronounced.

“Call me a line cook all you want,” Ren shot back, “I can still cook circles around you any day.” 

“Clever,” Hux said sarcastically. “It’s a wonder, what with your wit and charm, that you haven’t taken the culinary world by storm yet.” Hux rolled his eyes again. He had a feeling he’d do that a lot during the taping. He had hoped that’d knock Ren from his smug perch. To his dismay, it didn’t seem to have worked. 

“Did you just call me witty and charming?” Ren asked. He wasn’t smirking anymore. To Hux’s dismay, he saw that Ren was smiling at him now. It was a real smile, and Ren had his head tilted slightly. His arms were crossed just like Hux’s, but Ren seemed amused as he continued to watch Hux. That was the last thing Hux wanted. He wasn’t here to be made a fool of and have his words twisted. There’d be time enough for that as the show was edited to make it more entertaining. 

“Absolutely not," Hux spat out, hoping his disdain at the suggestion was evident. He turned away from Ren, head lowered, to hide the heat he felt rushing into his cheeks. If Hux didn’t know any better, he’d suspect Ren was flirting with him as part of a ploy to get under Hux’s skin. It wasn’t going to work despite his own traitorous blush. Hux wasn't going to be goaded into making a mistake, and he was far too seasoned to fall for such a transparent gambit.

Ren didn’t get a chance to reply, and Hux was oddly relieved that the next contestants arrival shut down their back and forth. 

_ Hi there, I’m Chef Finn. I’m the sous chef at The Disaster Cafe, and I’m so excited to be on Cutthroat Kitchen. I love being a chef and am really excited to put my skills to the test against the other competitors. I know there’ll be a lot of tough challenges, so it’s really anyone’s game. I don’t want to bid too early or too high. I want to save as much money as possible, especially in the first round, and get a feel for who I’m up against.  _

Chef Finn was all smiles, clearly the just-happy-to-be-here type. Hux loathed those kinds of people. It didn’t help that Finn was obviously nervous. Nervous guys don’t have steady hands. And unsteady hands don’t mix well with sharp knives. Hopefully the medics would be on high alert and pay extra close attention to Finn who was already failing to inspire confidence in his skills. If Hux strained his ears, he was certain he’d hear Finn giving himself a pep talk. 

Ren, who had been watching Finn’s descent into the kitchen, turned back to look at Hux. He’d raised his eyebrow, signaling Hux to get a look at that guy. Clearly Ren didn’t have anymore faith in Finn than Hux did. Hux pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in response. He sighed heavily too, letting his dismay be evident. Hux had thought there was at least some level of prestige to the show and the chefs who were chosen to compete. Apparently he was wrong. Finn was definitely out of his element. Hux had no doubts that Finn’s cheerful exuberance and can-do attitude was likely to win the hearts of viewers at home, but it would take a colossal screw up by one of the other chefs for him to make it past the first round. 

“Welcome contestants,” Chef Phasma began, “to Cutthroat Kitchen. You all know the rules, so let’s get started, shall we?”


	2. Round 1

“Today’s first dish, is…” Phasma paused for dramatic effect before she went on. Hux was more than ready for everyone to just get on with it. He knew it was going to be a long day and wanted to jump ahead to winning already. After a long pause, something Hux considered unnecessary since it easily could have been added in post, Phasma went on. "Steak frites.” 

Hux was surprised by the choice. He was standing behind a small podium topped by a grocery basket, not at his work space. He glanced along the row of competitors, each with their own podiums and basket. They seemed just as surprised as Hux which was good. Steak fries clearly wasn't what any of them was expecting. And why would they? It was such a simple dish, easy and quick to prepare. It didn't seem to fit the spirit of the show. Then Again Hux was willing to concede it could be a deceptive dish. It was simple but also easy enough to fuck up royally if not done correctly. 

The right cut of meat was essential. Hux knew that much and planned to make protein his top priority while picking up ingredients. It would be a hindrance if someone managed to beat him to what he wanted. Hux readied himself for the dash to the pantry. He knew full well that this could make or break his dish.

“You will have ninety seconds in the Cutthroat Kitchen pantry to collect your ingredients. After that, the bidding will begin. On your marks, get set, go!”

Hux took off as fast as he could. He wasn’t the athletic sort. Good genes, a fast metabolism, and having mere minutes to choke down a full meal during a short-lived lull, helped keep him thin. But he certainly didn’t work out and couldn’t remember the last time he did anything more strenuous than speed walk across the kitchen while carrying a box of produce, but Hux was determined to not be the last poor soul in the pantry. 

He’d expected Rey to be quick on her feet, likely all elbows as she made her way, and was not wrong. Finn made a good showing, trundling through the doors on Hux’s heels. Hux assumed Ren was behind Finn but didn’t have time to really give it any thought, and that was a small blessing. Hux wrenched open the left side of the fridge in search of steak. Rey had whipped open the right hand door and discovered she’d picked wrong. Hux wanted to rub it in her face, but just then Ren reached effortlessly over Hux’s shoulder, into the fridge before them, and grabbed the flank steak Hux was just about to take. Before Hux could react Ren was gone, and there wasn’t enough time to be furious. He grabbed the next best thing and continued to fill his basket: potatoes, truffle oil, garlic, salt, whatever other spices were within reach, and more. He figured it was much better to be over prepared than under, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one. By the time Phasma had started counting down the seconds left before they absolutely had to be out of the pantry and back at their posts, the pantry had been thoroughly ransacked. 

“Well done contestants,” Phasma crooned as she surveyed their baskets from where she stood behind a tall grey counter. One the counter were three unknown items. Each was covered by a black cloth, clearly waiting to be unveiled and bid on.

“But let’s see how you fare against this first sabotage.” She whisked the clothes away in rapid succession to reveal what had been underneath. “The classic dish, steak frites, is best paired with golden, delicious french fries. The contestant who wins this sabotage will get to swap his or her competitor’s potatoes for one of these.” 

Phasma gestured in delight to a mountain of potato peels, a box of instant mashed potatoes, and a tub of deli counter potato salad. Hux didn’t even attempt to hide his revulsion at the last two. He was a food snob through and through. He knew it and didn’t care who else know it. Hux had earned the right to be judgemental and picky about food, and he couldn’t imagine eating either of them himself. It pained him further to think about serving one of them to an unsuspecting, world renowned chef. Hux cringed hard and then swallowed down his dislike. 

“Who would like to start the bidding?” Phasma asked. 

“Six thousand,” Rey shouted with less than a second to pause. 

“Alright, Chef Rey, that’s the spirit!” Phasma replied enthusiastically. Clearly she liked contestants who were out for blood. At the very least she was more than happy to spur them on and see what would happen in the resulting melee. “Who will give me seven?”

Finn’s hand shot up. It was a quick motion but somehow still shy and unsure. Rey countered immediately with as much force as her first bid held. 

“Ten thousand!” Rey bid high, jumping the price up another three grand. It was ridiculous to bid that high. She must not think much of her own skills, despite how much she pretended otherwise. If she was so terrified of being saddled with a sabotage that she’d blow her entire wallet on the first bid of the day, she was never going to win. Hux wanted to do well, of course, but he also knew there was a lot you could do with the potato peels. Even the potato salad had potential once you washed it off. It was the instant mashed that was the biggest problem, but even then, Hux was sure he could figure something out. He stayed quiet and let Rey and Finn duke it out. 

“Going once. Going twice. Sold. Chef Rey bring me your money.” And that was that. Rey was ten thousand dollars down but clearly pleased with her purchase. It was borderline obscene to watch her amble back and forth in front of himself, Finn, and Ren as she decided. The wait was interminable too. Hux wanted to snap at her, order he to get on with it. She was wasting time and generally being a snot. 

“Hmmm, who should I give what?” Rey smiled apologetically as she handed Finn the boxed flakes of imitation potato but showed no remorse when she dropped the bowl of potato peels into Hux’s basket. She considered them and him garbage and was glad she could tell him as much. Hux just stared at her unphased and not the least bit remorseful for calling out her inferiority complex earlier. That left Ren with the potato salad. Hux watched as Rey tried to hand the tub to Ren, but Ren didn’t even bother to uncross his arms and take them. Instead he just stood there, expressionless, as she took away his real potatoes. 

Hux already knew what he was going to do with his peels and wasn’t worried in the slightest. He just hoped the next item up for auction was something he could win. With that thought, Hux watched Phasma reach below the lip of the counted and pull our a long, thin box.

“Tin foil. Often something you find in the kitchen, tin foil can be quite useful,” Phasma pretended the item was fairly innocuous and not at all a major wrench in someone’s plan before she led into what the real challenge was. “Win this single roll of tin foil and chose one competitor to make all of their kitchen utensils, including pots, pans, bowls, and really anything else you can think of, out of tin foil.”

“Three thousand,” was the starting number. Once again Rey was the first to bid but kept the number somewhat modest. Hux could tell that Rey realized that if she continued on like there was no tomorrow she’d be out of money before the first round. That’d suit Hux just fine though. She was hardly real competition, and he didn’t expect her to last much longer. Under normal conditions he’d have nothing to ever worry about, but he knew well enough that truly awful sabotages could sink you no matter how good a chef you are. He’d watched the show before submitting his application to be on it. He’d seen it happen many times.

Hux countered Rey’s bid with his own. They went back and forth, Finn piping in occasionally. So far Ren hadn’t said a word, but the smile on his face told Hux all he needed to know. Ren was certain Hux would win, eager to get payback at Rey, and then Ren would be safe until the next sabotage was announced. Smugness didn’t suit Ren, but what was worse was that he knew Hux’s plan down to the last detail as simple as it was. Hux won the bid handily. Rey and Finn both went quiet, not bothering to advance the bid. If Rey didn’t suspect what was in store for her, she was worse off than Hux had first supposed. For a scant four thousand dollars, Hux got to choose who would suffer through crafting all of their utensils and implements out of the malleable, tearable metal sheets. He was sorely tempted to throw the foil at Ren just to be spiteful. He gave it to Rey instead, as they all should have known he would. It was still oddly thrilling to watch her snarl of disdain in reaction. 

“Here’s the third and final sabotage for this round,” Phamsa rapped a knuckle on the dumbwaiter door, and then lifted it after a few beats of patient silence. Four plates were revealed, each piled high with meat, and each growing less and less acceptable as Phasma placed each of them on the counter so the chefs could have a better look.

“Here we have top choice prime rib, a simple skirt steak, a can of military-surplus filet mignon, and pepper steak left over from my dinner last night...or was it last week?” Phasma’s attempt at looking pensive veered too closely to devious for Hux to trust the quality of that beef. He could see that it didn’t look appetizing, even at that distance. He wondered what it smelled like and half-desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to be the one to find out. They couldn’t actually auction off and force contestants to use spoiled food, but that didn’t mean the other chefs and him were guaranteed the best ingredients to work with. 

“Five grand,” Finn started the bidding that round, eager now to get in on the action and wary of having to contend with both runny mashed potatoes and bad meat. 

“Six,” Rey countered with a fierce scowl. 

“Careful Chef Rey, or you won’t have anything left for the next round,” Phasma chidded. 

“Six-five,” Finn called.

“Okay we’re at six-five, do I heard seven?”

“Seven thousand,” Finn chimed, over bidding himself in his eagerness. The look Phasma gave him was beyond exasperation, the question of <em>really?</em> evident to everyone around them. “Oh...I mean...” Finn visibly deflated.

“Too late, Chef. The current bid is seven thousand dollars, any other bids?”

“Seven thousand two hundred,” Hux added, hopeful for once since Finn seemed thrown off enough by his blunder to miss out on outbidding him.

“Seven five,” Ren upped the ante, finally bidding on something after a lengthy radio silence. His watch and wait style had been used by myriad contestants in the past. It worked for some, if they were smart about how they bid. Usually the contestants who were too conservative ended up wishing they’d bid more aggressively, instead of letting themselves get plowed under by sabotages they hadn’t bothered bidding on. Rey, on the other hand, seemed to have realized she needed to slow down. She was uncharacteristically quiet. It was possible that, being the only contestant with real potatoes to work with, she felt confident that would be enough to carry her through regardless of what meat product she wound up with. Hux wasn’t convinced, but the bid kept going higher and higher and he wasn’t about to jump in now. He could make due. 

“Eight thousand,” Finned added on top. The amount rode until Phasma declared Finn the winner. He kept the prime rib for himself, naturally, and spared himself a new enemy by giving Rey the flank steak. He should have given her something worse considering Rey had stuck him with boxed potatoes. Hux certainly would have. Instead Hux was now doomed to try to un-pepper the pepper steak, a task only slightly worse than attempting to make the military canned slop edible. No doubt Ren would have a terrible time with that, not that Hux minded one bit. It’d work in his favor too. 

“Well chefs, the bidding is over. There are no more sabotages for this round. You have 30 minutes to make steak frites, and your time starts…now!”

The chefs scrambled once again, this time running to their assigned work stations. Hux was glad to have a prep station on the end. He wouldn’t have as far to move anytime he needed to boil or saute something or whatever else he’d have to do to make pepper steak and potato peels an appetizing meal, although he would have to share the cooking space with Ren.

Hux found himself side by side with Ren at the sink on their shared half of the kitchen. Ren was attempting to remove the dressing from his potato salad, washing away the noxious concoction of Miracle Whip, mustard, and midwestern sadness. He was no doubt praying that the tang of it hadn’t seeped too far into the potato chunks themselves and not looking forward to having to pick out the bits of onion and celery that was left after the thorough rinsing. Hux was aware that it wasn’t just about taste, presentation was part of the judging. It wasn’t the main category by far. The judge was more interested in how the dish fit the challenge and how it tasted. But the presentation was a factor and could very well be the deciding point between two equally horrendous dishes. 

Hux for his own part was desperate to get as much of the thick, congealed sauce off of the marinated and pre-cooked pepper steak he’d been given. The chunks of green pepper were large enough that picking them out wouldn’t be too difficult. He made quick work of tossing the peppers aside. Then he washed off each piece of beef separately, lightly squeezing out the water and patting them dry. Hux popped a piece of the newly hosed off beef into his mouth, however reluctant he was to do so, and was bowled over by salty it was. He glanced up across the kitchen to where Rey and Finn were each working diligently, bantering back and forth like good contestants should. They wouldn't have to worry about their dishes being too salty. Hopefully Finn and Rey would end up among the poor fools who failed to season their food enough. 

Hux set the rescued beef in a metal bowl with water to soak. It was a toss up if he could leach more of the briny soy sauce out of the protein. For now he had to shift his focus and work on his potato peels. He turned back towards his station and immediately plowed straight into Ren. The man was like a wall. He didn’t budge a bit, while Hux was nearly knocked flat. He splashed a good deal of the water from the bowl he was carrying over both of them as a result.

“Woah! Easy there chefs!” Phasma called over from where she was watching the action. She’d been narrating to the camera what she suspected Finn was up to, and her two cents weren’t really appreciated in Hux’s kitchen.

“Watch where you’re going,” Hux commanded through gritted teeth as he moved around Ren. He deliberately ignored his now sopping wet chef’s coat and the flush of embarrassment that burned his cheeks. 

“Hey, you ran into me,” Ren tossed back without even a fraction of the menace Hux’s expected.

“There you go making unfounded accusations again.” 

Ren looked briefly confused. It took him a moment to catch what Hux was referring to, but Hux saw the moment Ren figured it out. And then Ren smiled at Hux. It was a broad smile full of genuine delight.

“Ooooh, looks like things are heating up in Chefs Hux and Ren’s kitchen. Play nice chefs!” Hux could hear Phasma exclaiming over their exchange, and Ren clearly could too. A brief flash of mischief played across Ren’s face. 

“Hear that, Hux? We should play nice.” Ren winked. It was the most unsettling response Ren could have given, and the camera man stepped closer to get Hux’s reaction. 

“In your dreams,” Hux drawled in response, not looking at Ren, and rolling his eyes in full view of the camera.

“And what sweet dreams they’d be.” Ren had his hand over his heart, starring mock wistfully into the distance. 

That made Hux pause. He’d been quickly slicing the potato peels into even slimmer strips. It was his intention to pat them dry when he was done, drop them into the oil he had heating up in a dutch oven on the stove, and make shoestring potatoes out of them. But for a brief second, he completely forgot what he was doing and where he was. He stared at Ren, mouth slightly agape.

“Tell you what. After I win, I’ll still let you take me out to dinner to make up for being so mean to me. How does that sound?” Ren was teasing him. It was completely innocent, a simple show for the camera until Ren dropped his voice so only Hux could hear, “I’ll show you just how witty and charming I can be.” 

“Just how old is that tinned beef?” Hux asked. Ren shrugged, clearly confused by where Hux was going with the question. The one thing you learned to do in a kitchen, other than cook, was mouth off. Hux could give as good as he got. Hux had barely looked up from his potato peels, now all sliced even thinner than when they’d first been handed to him. “You know, they used to use lead to solder those closed. Lead poisoning causes hallucinations. Maybe one of the medics on stand-by should take a look at Chef Ren.”

“It’s true,” Phamsa piped in. She beckoned a cameraman closer, and began speaking in a hushed almost reverent tone. “In the mid 1800s, Captain John Franklin left England for an arctic expedition. Unfortunately Franklin and the other members of his party went missing. It wasn’t until over 130 years later that scientists found the party’s remains and determined, from the discarded food tins found nearby, that they’d perished in large part due to the effects of lead poisoning. The lead exposure caused severe mass hallucinations that left the team ill-equipped to deal with the harsh climate.” Phasma was oddly cheerful as she finished, clearly delighted to educate the masses and share this macabre bit of history. Hux nodded along, having obviously remembered the story, although not the precise details. He couldn’t remember where he’d learned about it, but recalled a brief stint as a wannabe explorer as a kid. His mother had encouraged his imagination and together they’d spent part of their Saturday here and there at the library. 

“I’m going to ignore how creepy it is that you know that,” Ren said to Hux. His voice was still lowered. He was willfully ignoring that it was Phamsa who deserved that proclamation. Ren was shaking his head and smiling fondly, “and focus on the fact that you were concerned for my well-being.”

“I think we should all be concerned about you. You’re clearly delusional and have easy access to sharp knives,” Hux retorted. “Then again, so do I.”

Hux held up his knife to demonstrate his purpose once he was certain no one but Ren was paying him much attention. Ren shot him another easy smile, once again completely incongruous with how a normal person would react, and Hux felt his ears go hot. Hux resolutely and steadfastly focused on nothing but the dish he was making.

All of the contestants had more or less gone silent. There were a few muttered curses, mostly from Rey, and the clinking of pots and pans being shoved around as the clock kept counting closer to zero.

“Chefs you have three minutes left!” Phasma shouted. Hux would have preferred another ten minutes at least but was just about done anyways. There was only so much he could do to dress up the ingredients he’d been given. He was just about ready to plate, and then he was done. The last minute had gone so quickly, he’d barely registered anything else happening around him. His plate was all that mattered, and not that it was done, he had to stand stoically behind his freshly cleaned prep station and wait.

A pair of feet appeared at the top of the stairs. It was a slow reveal, adding to the suspense in the kitchen and not just piling it on for the final cut of the show. Hux couldn’t see any more of the judge than the shoes, but he knew at the very least it was a man. 

“Welcome, Chef Dameron,” Phasma greeted once the world renowned Poe Dameron had reached the last step. She held out their hand, and they shared a perfunctory handshake. It seemed like the Food Network rumors about the two of them not getting along so well wasn’t all that untrue. Phasma was tough as nails, battled-hardened and a force to be reckoned with in and outside of the kitchen. She didn’t suffer fools and always seemed to play the slightly sinister foil to Poe’s America’s Sweetheart brand. Poe was polite and charming and unbearably good looking. He was a sensation at the network, and everyone loved him on screen and off, except for Phasma apparently.

“Thank you, Chef Phasma,” Poe nodded genially, smiling brightly to each of the contestants. Hux saw Finn grin back with eagerness. Too bad Finn’s plate looked like a mess. Had he left the prime rib on too long? It looked like the charred bits had been haphazardly scrapped off. It was a theory that would certainly account for the smell of smoke and frantic “oh nos” that had poured from Finn’s station earlier. Of course no amount of blacked steak could counter the inevitable blandness of the dollop of wallpaper paste that sat beside it. “So what have you got for me today?”

“Steak frite,” Phasma explained without any fanfare.

“Alright, I can’t wait.” Poe seemed genuinely excited to try the dishes. Hux wasn’t sure if it was his natural enthusiasm, or if he was just that good of an actor. Hux refused to believe that any of the shows judges were eager to eat the mystery concoctions put before them. Poe and Phasma stepped up to Hux, ready to test his dish first. Contestants weren’t allowed to babble or give away anything about the sabotages they’d had to work against. Hux had to figure out a way to talk up his dish. At least the triangle-shaped strips of beef topped with a slice of button mushroom and bordelaise sauce with the small nest of shoestring potatoes on top bore a passing resemblance to steak frites.

“Hello Chef,” Hux greeted as warmly as he could. “What you have before you is steak frite modeled as an amuse-bouche. Keeping the simple flavors of the sirloin and bordelaise sauce, I wanted to add a contrasting texture with the shoestring potatoes in a single bite.” 

Poe hadn’t waited for Hux to finish before he’d slid his fork under one of the three plated samples and placed it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, not talking with his mouth full thankfully. He nodded a few times as he chewed like it would help him convey something while Hux, Phamsa, the rest of the contestants, and a half dozen cameras stared at him.

“The protein is kind of chewy, which is a little off putting. Otherwise the flavors and textures are well-balanced. I like the shoestring potatoes. It’s a good crunch that really adds a satisfying element to the amuse-bouche. However, when I think of steak frites, I don’t think of small bites. I think of a large slab of meat and a pile of french fries. I appreciate what you were going for, but I still kind of wanted more, if that makes sense.”

“Thank you Chef,” was all Hux could say as Phasma led Poe to Ren’s table. 

Hux paid close attention the other contestant’s presentations and critiques. The phrases “too salty” and “soft, lumpy texture” were used in reference to Ren’s dish. Ren had tried making some sort of gnocchi, but his dish seemed more closely related to a stroganoff than steak frites. Finn’s dish was uninspiring and also lacked actual french fries, but apparently it was well seasoned. Hux figured neither of those critiques were better or worse than the one he received. From what he could tell they were, so far, pretty evenly matched. Then Poe pronounced Rey’s dish to be under seasoned. Not enough salt was definitely worse than any sort of texture or plating issues. Hx was sure. 

“Well Poe, what did you think?” Phasma asked after all the dishes had been sampled. 

“I thought each of the chefs brought an interesting spin to the dish, but there were issues with each of them.” Poe repeated a shortened version of the critiques he’d already delivered.”

“Alright, Chef Poe, who is the first contestant leaving us today?”

“The first contestant leaving is Chef Rey. Your dish was under seasoned and just didn’t show the same level of innovation and desire to make it your own that the other chefs demonstrated.”

Rey looked like she wanted to argue but stayed quiet.

“Chef Rey, so sorry. Please bring me what’s left of your money. You have been eliminated.”

Rey stomped up to Phasma, dropped her cash on the table and stormed off, not sticking around to spare even a second glance at the other chefs. 

_ “It’s absolutely ridiculous that I’m the first one to go. I know I was the best chef in that kitchen. They asked for steak frites, and that’s what I gave them even when I had to make all my tools from tin foil. None of the other chefs did, and there’s no way my dish was worse than Chef Ren’s lumpy ‘interpretation’. I’m not even sure what he served counted as food.” - Chef Rey _


	3. Round 2

“Okay chefs!” Phasma shouted as a call to order. Hux tightened his grip on the grocery basket in his hand. It was the worst kind of deja vu, and he’d have to suffer this at least once more before the end of the show. One round down, two to go. Of course this round was going to be harder than the last one. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that Rey had gone first. He knew Finn and Ren weren’t as inept as Hux had hoped. The show would be too easy if everyone but him was a colossal failure. Hux didn’t need the challenges to be easy, but it would sure help. 

“There are three of you left, and by the end of this all, only one of you will walk away with the title of Cutthroat Kitchen Champion and any cash left over after three rounds of bidding. Right now Chef Ren has the highest balance, since he didn’t win a single auction last round.” Phasma’s voice matched her slightly reproving expression. 

Hux noticed Ren’s eyes were firmly fixed on the space behind the host. He was clearly eager to get in the pantry and get back in the kitchen. That must have been Ren’s approximation of a game face. He was preparing himself for the next round and seemed to be ignoring Phasma’s pointed look in the process. Even Finn’s jovial bumbling had dissipated. He was just as focused as Ren. Hux should have been doing the same, not focusing on what his competition was doing. 

“That means Chef Ren has 25 thousand dollars. Chef Hux isn’t all that far behind at 21, and Chef Finn still has a very respectable 17 grand. Let’s see if we can do a little damage in this round, hmm?” Phasma paused, her expression growing contemplative.

“In the first round, I had you make something French-inspired,” Phasma continued. “This time let’s head a little further south. I’m thinking Italian. Spaghetti Bolognese, gentlemen, that’s your next dish. As usual you’ll have one and a half minutes in the pantry, followed by a round of bidding, and 30 minutes to cook. Shopping time starts...now!”

Hux took off running as he tried to make a list of everything he’d need. It was yet another classic dish, something that really wasn’t open to much interpretation. He reached the pantry first with the other two just milliseconds behind him. The pantry wasn’t large, and Hux was grateful he wasn’t claustrophobic. With the three of them in there plus a cameraman, it was almost impossible to move around although he had slightly more elbow room than in the last round. 

Hux moved as fast as he could, grabbing blindly at times and fighting with Finn and Ren for every ingredient: ground beef, fresh vegetables, cheese, bread, and everything else. He’d be damned if he allowed Ren to swoop in and steal yet another ingredient out from right under his nose.

“Ten seconds!” Phasma had started counting down. Hux’s basket was overflowing, onions and garlic threatening to spill out. Hux snagged a green pepper and called it quits. He got out first, followed by Ren right on his heels once again as Phasma shouted, “one!” 

Finn wasn’t fast enough. Hux got back to his podium and turned to see that Finn had gotten caught behind the silver, open-paned doors as Phasma casually slid them closed when the clock hit zero. 

“Chef Finn!” Phasma was clearly savoring her power over the contestants. The dread that was obvious on Finn’s face seemed to spur her on. Hux was glad he’d gotten out when he had. Phasma opened the doors and leaned forward. She was still blocking Finn’s path, and Hux watched her peer appreciatively into Finn’s basket. She mulled over the contents, and Hux wondered what she was going to take as a penalty for missing the time limit.

“I’m going to fine you...this baguette. Don’t need a French bread for an Italian dish, do you?” Phasma chuckled slightly and stepped aside so Finn could pass. Finn speed walked to his spot with his head hung in shame. Hux scoffed and noticed the sound draw Ren’s attention. Ren raised his eyebrows at Hux. Hux turned away and crossed his arms. He was annoyed she didn’t take something a little more important and wished he could say so. 

“Alright chefs, I think it’s safe to say that Spaghetti Bolognese is a rather simple dish. Let’s see what we have up for bid to make it just a little bit more challenging.” Phasma gestured to an easel that sat just off to her side. There was a large, black cloth covering whatever rested on it. 

“As we all know, Italy is renowned as a hub of the art world. Italian artists have played major roles in almost every historic art movement. And here you have before you a masterpiece of a different sort.” Phasma whisked away the black cloth. And there it was. The easel held a huge, crudely rendered portrait of Phasma’s face. Hux stared in confusion. He couldn’t figure out how it could be a sabotage. 

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Of course the subject matter is really what give it that…” Phasma paused and then waved her hand flippantly, “whatever <em>je ne sais quoi</em> is in Italian. Of course this isn’t any ordinary piece of art. It’s made from dried pasta and edible flour paste. The contestant who wins this quite frankly priceless piece of art will force the other two competitors to surrender all the pasta they have in their baskets and scrape the noodles for their dish off of this. Now who wants to give me two thousand dollars?”

“Two thousand.” Finn threw out the starting bid.

“Three,” Ren countered immediately. 

“Four,” Hux jumped in. 

“Four-five,” Finn responded. Hux was grateful. He didn’t want the bidding to get out of hand. If this was the first sabotage of the round, there was no telling what else was to come. Hux was pretty sure it was only going to get worse. It seemed like they’d all learned a lesson about going too high too fast from Rey. The bidding rose in smaller and smaller increments until it ran out of steam altogether. 

“Six grand,” Hux added one final bid, and both of the other chefs shook their heads when Phasma asked for more. 

“Very good, Chef Hux. Go ahead and take Chef Ren and Chef Finn’s pasta. The crew will place this lovely work between their stations.”

Hux did as ordered. It felt good to root through Finn and Ren’s baskets. They both scowled at Hux’s grin. He felt triumphant carrying the other chefs’ noodles to Phasma. He handed over six thousand dollars. It was worth every penny, and he still had 15 grand left. 

“On to the next items up for auction.” Phasma rapped on the door of the dumb waiter like she had in the first round of bidding and then slid the door open to reveal a stovetop espresso maker and a coffee machine. The coffee machine had a brewing station that sat above a hot plate to keep the bulbous glass carafe with the chunky orange handle hot and another hot plate that sat on top of the whole contraption to keep a second carafe warm. While the espresso maker looked new, the coffee machine looked like it had been sitting behind the counter at some 24 hour dinner off the interstate for the better part of a decade. 

“Oooh this is a good one. You can’t make pasta without boiling water can you? The losing contestants can only use whichever of these the winner assigns them to cook their pasta. Who wants to give me three thousand dollars?”

“Five,” Ren shouted without hesitation. It was the first time he’d been so aggressive in his bidding. Clearly he wanted to win. So did Hux. There’s a fine line between al dente and overcooked pasta. None of them had done a stellar job of cooking meat and potatoes in the first round. Poorly done pasta would probably be the death knell for either one of them. 

“Six,” Finn and Hux shouted at the same time, but not even a beat went by before Ren added, “Six-five.”

“We’re at six thousand five hundred dollars, but I think you lot can do better than that. How about seven?” Phasma asked.

“Eight!” Ren countered. He wasn’t playing around. Hux paused, not sure how high he was willing to go. He didn’t want the coffee maker. Even from a distance, Hux thought it looked like a health code violation. Hux let the bid go, and watch Ren swagger up to Phasma to pay. Hux almost felt relieved when Ren gently placed the espresso maker in Hux’s basket. 

It took a lot more effort for Ren to get the large, unwieldy coffee maker onto Finn’s prep counter. Hux enjoyed watching Ren struggle. Hopefully he’d have just as much difficulty once the cooking started. Finn was still frowning in dismay at his station’s newest feature when the crew wheeled out the next sabotage. It was a long thin metal table on wheels topped with a clear glass tank full of dirt. 

“I consider myself something of a green thumb,” Phasma confessed casually, “and there’s nothing quite as delightful as cooking with ingredients you grew and harvested yourself. Win this item, and you can choose which of the other two contestants will have to dig for their vegetables. Garlic, tomatoes, peppers, all of them. How does three thousand sound?”

Finn and Ren quickly jumped in. The bid had doubled within seconds, and Hux stayed quiet. A little dirt wouldn’t hurt the vegetables. He figured the time it took to unearth them, literally, wouldn’t be nearly as detrimental as that pasta and paste nightmare. Thanks to winning that sabotage, Hux figured he was going to be on the receiving end of this one. Ren would want revenge for the pasta. And Finn could probably go either way since Ren gave him the coffee machine. 

Hux watched Ren and Finn go back and forth for a while, and then suddenly Finn stopped bidding. Hux wondered if Finn assumed, like he had, that Ren would give the sabotage to Hux. After Ren handed over the money, Hux tried not to smile when Ren ransacked Finn’s basket for any vegetables. Finn looked like he’d been slapped. Ren’s smug determination returned. He smiled at Hux as he walked back to his podium and basket. 

“Sometimes here on Cutthroat Kitchen we like to save the best for last. Roll it out boys!” As Phasma spoke, stagehands wheeled in what looked like a small, but still life-sized, eat in kitchen. 

It was a raised, mobile platform that was enclosed on three sides. Each of the walls were lined with a lower set of cabinets that had a formica countertop. There was a fridge, an electric stove, and what was presumably a working sink. Above the sink was a painting of a window featuring a bland country scene framed by checked curtains. The curtains matched the plastic tablecloth that adorned the square table that sat at the front of the kitchen, closest to the rest of the Cutthroat Kitchen set. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern kitchen the chefs had been using up until that point, and it was oddly homey. It was somehow reminiscent of the kitchen in Hux’s house growing up. Hux hated it.

“The two contestants who are outbid will have to share this kitchen to make their entire meal. Let’s start the bidding at 5 thousand dollars.”

“Eight!” Ren’s voice boomed. 

“Nine,” Hux responded. 

“Nine one,” Finn tossed in his advancing bid, although he was clearly being cautious. Hux was pretty sure Finn still had more money than either Ren or him. It was hard to keep track of who had how much exactly. Hux wondered how badly Finn wanted to keep the money he had left for the next round. It was a tough moment to choose to be fiscally conservative, and Hux decided to go with his instincts and keep bidding.

“Nine two,” Hux added.

“Nine three.” Ren tossed in another bid. 

Hux had to work to be heard over the other two as the bid rose one hundred dollars at a time. Eventually the bid began to peter out. At eleven-thousand five hundred dollars, Finn had been the last to bid. Ren looked as though he wanted to go higher, but Phasma had already stepped in and told him the bid was more than he had left. Now Phasma was looking at Hux to see if he wanted to keep going. 

Normally Hux would rather slit his wrist with a dull kitchen knife than work in that kitchen. There was barely room for him and Ren already in their shared kitchen spaces. But Hux knew that being a chef meant being able to work in less-than-desirable conditions. He’d worked in small restaurants with tiny kitchens and staff he hated before. He let the sabotage go to Finn and would suffer the consequences. By all accounts he was still doing better than the other two. The sabotages he’d been hampered with weren’t so bad. The espresso maker, along with Hux and Ren’s knives, were moved to the homey kitchen. Then Phasma gave the cue to begin cooking, and the chefs each took off with their baskets of ingredients. 

Hux set his basket down on the counter of his new kitchen and was appalled by the sight of Ren dumping his unceremoniously on the kitchen’s table. Hux didn’t have more than a second to regret not bidding higher before Ren was running away from the kitchen and towards the pasta picture of Phasma. Finn had already started working, and Ren had some catching up to do. Hux had the little kitchen to himself and was thrilled to claim the best burner and miniscule counter space as his own. 

He was moving as quickly as possible, rooting through the kitchen cabinets and drawers to find what he needed. Everything was much better organized in the regular kitchen, but this kitchen at least had everything he needed including an immersion blender which Hux was surprised by. He grabbed a cutting board and began chopping onions, garlic, celery, and carrots to be heated on the stove. He’d have to soften the vegetables before blending and reducing the sauce. 

Hux added olive oil to a pan and began simmering some freshly chopped garlic. The stove only had four burners, and he needed at least two. Hux added a few more chopped vegetables to his pan and gave it a shake. He looked up to see Ren lumbering into the kitchen. He looked very unhappy with the shards of pasta he’d collected and, from what Hux could tell, planned to take his frustration out on the ridiculous excuse for a kitchen they were forced to share. Ren was aggressively opening and closing cabinets and drawers. Not only was it super distracting, but it was causing Hux to feel stressed out for both of them. 

“Here,” Hux said peevishly. He slid his colander towards Ren, barely lifting his eyes away from where his vegetable medley was simmering. 

“For me?” Ren asked with mock joviality. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Hux rolled his eyes. “I want that back when you’re done.” 

Hux didn’t actually need the colander. He figured the pour spout in the espresso maker would work just fine, but Ren didn’t need to know that, and he’d rather have Ren back to being playful and teasing than surly and agitated if they had to share a kitchen together. 

“I suppose that’s better than your last gift. I had to waste five minutes scraping penne off a piece of cardboard. So thanks for that by the way.”

"You're welcome,” Hux chirped back, matching Ren’s sarcasm. “I'd say I went pretty easy on you."

"Easy!?" 

"Yes, easy. You don't have to cook it in an espresso maker,” Hux gestured to where the espresso maker sat on the counter.

"Would you have rather had that coffee machine?" Ren smirked at Hux completely unaware of how ridiculous he looked apparently. Ren was trying to chop vegetables at the too small and too low table.

"No, thank you." Hux said matter of factly. He looked back at Finn. At some point he must have finished digging furiously through the big box of dirt. The tank had been hauled away but there were still little mounds of dirt on the floor. It was a rough outline of where it had been. Hux was slightly disappointed he hadn’t gotten to watch Finn struggle, but there just wasn’t time. Ten minutes had already passed, that only left 20 minutes. It was going to be close. 

“So how’s it going over here?” Phasma asked. 

“Just great. I feel completely at home. Literally,” Ren replied. Ren set a full pot of water one of the stove’s large burners. He bumped into Hux in the process. Hux wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. Nevertheless, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, and Hux couldn’t help but think they’d been less crammed in the stupid pantry. 

“What about you, Chef Hux?” Phasma was trolling for a reaction. She was a remarkable font of knowledge, and her dry, often scathing sense of humor, made her entertaining to watch and overwhelming to cook around. Hux knew it was a large part of her job to draw out the contestants and encourage a little bit of spirited drama. 

“I’d be better if Ren stayed out of my way,” Hux announced honestly. He bumped his shoulder against Ren to emphasize his point. 

“Oh ho, what do you have to say to that Chef Ren?” Phasma seemed amused by their bickering.

“Hux should count himself lucky.” Ren was starting to saute his vegetables but still looked up at Phasma and the cameras as he answered. “He has a front row seat to watch a real chef work.” 

Hux snorted inelegantly at that. 

“I’m sure plenty of people would pay top dollar to watch a line cook stumble around like a drunken chimpanzee,” Hux conceded. “Sorry, I’m not one of them.” 

“I could cook circles around you anyday.” Ren sounded genuinely offended. Hux didn’t bother to look at his face to see if he was or not. He just kept stirring his pasta sauce.

“So you’re not planning to use that jar of spaghetti sauce after all?” Hux pointed with his chin at the label-less jar of what was probably Prego sitting on the counter. 

“Well, it’s nice to see this cozy kitchen hasn’t inspired too much domestic bliss,” Phasma interjected when Ren didn’t answer right away. “Can’t wait to see what you do with that espresso maker, Chef Hux.” 

Ren laughed at that final zinger, and Phasma walked away. Hux figured she’d gotten plenty of juicy sound bites from him and Ren and was going to go back to torturing Finn. Although Hux thought he could hear her singing softly, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…”

The rest of the round passed in the blink of an eye. Hux had found a way to easily work around Ren. It was a skill you picked up working in any kitchen. You adopted to the rhythm of everyone else, you economized your movements to be as efficient as possible, and you cooked your ass off. The clatter of pots and pans served as a backing track and helped Hux narrow his focus to the tasks at hand. The espresso maker proved to be a bit of a challenge. Hux was frustrated that he couldn’t check the noodles as he went, but he’d worked in an Italian restaurant at one point. He’d made enough pasta in his life to have more than a good idea how long the noodles needed to cook. The worst part was that if he was wrong, there wouldn’t be time to try again. 

“Chefs, you have one minute left,” Phasma called. 

Hux was almost done. Both him and Ren were plating, still side by side. Hux had no idea if Finn was also on track to finish on time. If you didn’t plate, you were sunk. You couldn’t serve nothing to a judge. Finn had the largest number of sabotages against him and they all demanded an unfortunate amount of time. It wouldn’t shock anyone if he didn’t finish. 

Phasma ordered all the chefs to stop what they were doing. Hux and Ren both got to go back to their assigned stations and pretend like they’d been there the whole time. The fake kitchen was wheeled away, and Hux wasn’t the least bit sorry to see it go. Chef Poe appeared again. He swaggered down the stairs smiling brightly. 

“Hello again chefs!” Poe greeted.

“Welcome back,” Phasma said. “This time our lovely contestants have prepared a time honored Italian classic, Spaghetti Bolognese.”

“Excellent.” Poe clapped his hands together. “I love Italian food.”

“Who doesn’t?” Phasma guided Poe towards Hux’s station. She stood slightly behind Poe where she could observe unobtrusively but still be on camera. 

Hux’s dish was served in a simple bowl. It was wide but not very deep. It’s simplicity matched the presentation, Hux thought. The noodles topped with sauce were wholly unpretentious. It was a far cry from the kinds of food Hux usually made. 

“Chef Hux, please tell us what you’ve made.”

“I’ve prepared a classic spaghetti bolognese. My first job was in an Italian restaurant, and one of the things I learned there was the importance of tradition. I wanted to pay homage to this dish by keeping it simple and classic.” Poe took a bite and then another. Hux could tell that the camera was trained on Poe’s face. Hux watched him take a third bite, and saw Phasma bend forwards to look more closely at Hux’s dish. 

“In my family, food and tradition are synonymous,” Poe began. “Watching my mother and grandmother cook was what inspired me to become a chef, so I really respect that you wanted to honor the tradition of this dish, and I think you did a great job. The sauce is flavorful, and the noodles are cooked perfectly. It reminded me of the first time I had spaghetti bolognese, and if I could, I’d eat the whole thing.”

“High praise for Chef Hux,” Phasma remarked. Her eyebrows were raised and she looked impressed. Hux knew his dish was good, but he also knew it’d been a gamble to go traditional. Rey had been cut for her lack of personal twist in the first round. “Let’s see what Poe has to say about Chef Ren’s dish.”

Ren didn’t have much to say about his dish. He also went traditional it seemed. Hux had gotten a good look at Ren’s plate after the cooking time had ended. Ren’s plating was more complex than Ren’s. He had chosen a triangular bowl to put his penne and sauce in and laid it on a white, square plate. The serving of bolognese was complimented with a fan of crostini. Poe scooped some of the pasta onto his fork, deposited it on the small, toasted piece of bread, and took a bite. 

“The pasta is a little overcooked and very starchy. All the pieces want to stick together. The sauce isn’t bad, although it could have been a little more seasoned. Some of the flavors would have benefited the dish by being more pronounced. But really its biggest failing is that it’s not as good as Hux’s dish.” 

Hux moved his hand to cover his smirk. He’d felt confident that he’d be advancing to the next round, but now he was absolutely certain. Ren seemed to take the criticism well enough while Poe and Phasma were watching, but once they’d started migrating towards Finn Ren shot Hux a scathing look. Hux dropped his hand and grinned full out. 

Finn’s dish didn’t vary much from Ren’s or Hux’s. He hadn’t included any other component, and his pasta stood like a solid lump at one end of the long, rectangular plate. Sauce oozed over the dish, topped with a dusting of grated cheese. Poe poked at it hesitantly with his fork.

“I can already tell the noodles aren’t quite right.” Poe speared a few noodles onto his fork. He chewed thoughtfully. Time seemed to slow down as he kept chewing and chewing and chewing. Poe chewed some more, and Finn looked more and more defeated. Hux may not have gotten to see Finn root through a vat of dirt, but he knew his pasta art sabotage had sunk this competitor. “As you can tell, it definitely took me awhile to get through even that one bite. The noodles are sort of one big starchy blob, and they’re definitely closer to uncooked than to al dente.”

“Thank you Chef,” Finn said, accepting his critique graciously.

“Very well, Chef Poe. You’ve had a chance to try all three dishes. Which of the three contestants is not moving on to the final round?” Phasma asked.

“After this round I feel a little like Goldilocks. One dish was too hard, one dish was too soft, and one was just right. This round had a definite winner, and it had a definite loser.” Poe paused for dramatic effect. “Finn, I’m so sorry, but your spaghetti bolognese was almost inedible.”

“Chef Finn,” Phasma broke in, “that means you’ve been eliminated. Please return your nine thousand dollars and leave the kitchen.” Phasma held out her hand to shake Finn’s. Finn nodded solemnly. 

“It’s been great having you in this competition today. I’m sorry to see you go. Best of luck, Chef.” It was a much more jovial send off than what Rey received, and Finn even turned back to wave at Hux and Ren and wish them good luck. Hux nodded in acknowledgement. He even smiled a little despite himself. 

_ “I wasn’t surprised I got sent home. That pasta was terrible, and there just wasn’t anything I could do about it. I’m glad I got a chance to compete, and I’m proud that I made it as far as I did.” -Chef Finn _


	4. The Final Round

“Four chefs walked into this kitchen, hoping to make it through three rounds and earn the title of Cutthroat Kitchen Champion. Now just two of you remain, and one last dish separates you from winning or losing.” Phasma paused and Hux took the moment to draw in a deep breath. The competition had been fiercer than he expected, but he hadn’t lost any of his confidence. He knew he could beat Chef Ren, although he was loath to admit working in a kitchen with him hadn’t been completely terrible. One of the things he loved most about his job was the banter. Some days it felt like the key to being a real chef was being able to cook a delicious meal while verbally roasting your coworkers. 

“Chocolate cupcakes!” Phasma shouted as though she’d just had a eureka moment. Hux had to stop himself from saying ‘of course’ out loud. He wasn’t a pastry chef, although growing up his mother had liked to bake. Immediately Hux was trying to mentally adapt one of her recipes instead of paying strict attention to Phasma. 

“For the final round, you’ll be making Chef Dameron chocolate cupcakes as a tasty dessert. Since this is the final round, we like to do things a little bit differently. As soon as your minute to shop is up, you’ll go straight to your kitchen spaces and begin baking. You’ll have 60 minutes to make your cupcakes, and you’ll have to bid while you bake. Doesn’t that sound fun!?”

Hux looked over at Ren. His expression was still read as fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, but Ren definitely didn’t look like he was having fun. 

“Ready, set, shop!” Phasma shouted. 

Hux and Ren made a dash for the pantry, each heading straight for the standard dry ingredients: flour, sugar, salt, cocoa powder, and baking powder. After a stop at the fridge for butter and eggs, they deviated and started grabbing whatever else they needed. Hux worked quickly, grabbing what he needed confidently. Hux could see Ren meandering from shelf to shelf. Hux smiled. Ren was clearly lost, and apparently happy to settle for just ransacking the place and grabbing everything he could. Hux was going to win this. 

Both chefs left the pantry with mere seconds lefts and ran to their separate prep tables. Despite half the room being empty, they were still sharing the oven and range. Hux wasn’t pleased about that, but at least there were two ovens and plenty of burners on the stove top, not that he needed more than one this round. Hux had just set down his basket of ingredients when he saw Phasma lingering by the dumb waiter. 

“You each started with 25 thousand dollars. Chef Hux, after splurging last round on that beautiful pasta portrait of yours truly, you still have eight thousand dollars remaining. Chef Ren, you’re just a little behind Hux with seven grand. Let’s see what you get to spend that money on.” Phasma pulled a large bus tray out of the dumbwaiter. Whatever was in it clattered loudly as she moved it. She gave it a few added shakes for emphasis to draw the contestants’ attention away from their prep work. Hux gave Phasma more of his attention but continued to work as fast as possible nonetheless. Phasma tilted the bus tray so Hux could see the contents. She had his full attention now. She had Ren’s too. 

“Both knives and spoons are rather ancient tools, as I’m sure we all know.”

Hux must have missed the lessons on the history of silverware while he was in culinary school. Of course Phasma wasn’t really looking for a response, and Hux was trying to pay attention to the upcoming sabotage and his cupcake batter. He’d started parsing out his ingredients and was adding flour to a mixing bowl.

“Forks are much more recent inventions having been invented in the 16th century. And the art of rolling them all together in a napkin and securing them with a little bit of paper is an even newer practice.” Phasma held up a roll of silverware to show what she meant. “Whoever doesn’t win this item will have to stop what they’re doing and roll 50 sets of silverware before they can start baking again. Let’s start the bidding at, say, one thousand dollars.”

“One thousand.” Ren met the minimum bid without much hesitation. He was also trying to work and play the game at the same time. 

“Bid to Chef Ren at one thousand, Chef Hux would you like the raise the bid to eleven hundred?”

“Let’s make it twelve hundred,” Hux tossed out nonchalantly. 

“Fifteen,” Ren added without being prompted.

“Eighteen.”

“Okay we have one thousand eight hundred dollars-” Phasma began.

“Two thousand.” Ren didn’t let her finish her thought. 

“Do I hear, two thousand and one?” With only the two contestants left, Phasma could direct her questions to either or, and she had her sights set on Hux. Hux shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Let him have it.” 

“Very well. Chef Ren, it’s yours for two thousand dollars. Stay where you are, I’ll come to you.” Phasma counted out what Ren owed her, and then dropped the bustray on Hux’s station. It clattered forcefully. Hux had just started measuring out his dry ingredients. “Stop what you’re doing Chef Hux and start rolling.”

Hux immediately set the bowl aside and got to work. He noticed Phasma stayed put and watched him. He probably could have mentioned that his first restaurant job was as a busboy. He’d probably rolled millions of pairs of silverware in his time. It had been a few years since he’d had to roll quite so many, but he could still do it efficiently and with ease. Phasma must not have been expecting Hux to get on such practiced ease if her raised eyebrows were any indication. Hux looked up at her and the over at Ren as he quickly wrapped the first five sets and deftly continued to do more.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure that was much of a sabotage Chef Ren. Look at Hux go. This clearly isn’t his first time rolling silverware.” Phasma picked one up and took it with her. She showed the silverware roll to the camera. Hux had no doubt that its edges were neatly tucked, and the paper ring that held it all together was aligned perfectly. “He’ll be done in no time.”

Ren looked slightly put out. Hux smiled at him as Ren passed behind him on the way to get a bowl or something. He continued to move about and get his final dish ingredients in order while Hux diligently rolled more of the silverware. 

“On to the next sabotage. I think you’re both going to like this one, especially since it matches the theme of your desserts.” Phasma pulled out a stack of white cardboard. It didn’t look like much, and once again Hux was stumped about what the sabotage could be. Hux was sure that meant it’d be something particularly heinous. “I think we’ve all heard the term ‘cakewalk’. It usually means that something is going to be pretty easy, but we don’t like anything to be easy on Cutthroat Kitchen, do we?

“No we don’t!” Phasma answered her own question, “But we do like to take things literally. If you win this item, your opposition will have to assemble these and use them to navigate across the kitchen. Anytime he wants to leave his station, he’ll have to lay these out like stepping stones and step from one to the other and back again. Oh, and if you fall off, or just forget, I’ll fine you an additional one hundred dollars for each infraction.” Phasma sounded like she was looking forward to busting a rule breaker. 

“The last item went for two thousand dollars. Let’s start there. Who wants to give me two thousand dollars for the privilege of not having to use these?”

Hux started the bidding without looking up. The silverware wasn’t slowed him down too much, but having to juggle baking and those stupid boxes was more than he was willing to put up with. Ren jumped in with a bid of his own.

Hux noticed Ren was still sifting ingredients, adding a little bit of this and a little bit of that from his stash of dry ingredients. Hux was almost certain Ren had no idea what he was doing. It’d be easy enough to point it out just to mess with Ren, but Hux want to get his cupcakes in the oven so they had enough time to cool more than he wanted to annoy the other chef. Hux countered Ren’s bid and they went back and forth half-heartedly in increments of one hundred dollars with quite a bit of prompting from Chef Phasma. They were both busy and not giving the auction as much attention as they probably should have. 

“Three thousand dollars,” Hux added distractedly. He was almost done with the first sabotage and only a few minutes had actually passed. 

“I have three thousand dollars from Chef Hux, what do you say Chef Ren? Want to go to three thousand one-hundred?”

“He can have it,” Ren was desperately trying figure out what the heck he was supposed to be making. From where Hux stood it was obvious he was lost. The boxes would slow Ren down, but Ren was tall and had long legs. Hux imagined he could cross the work space in a few large steps if Ren was properly motivated. 

“Very well then! I’ll just go ahead and take three thousand dollars from your pile here,” Phasma reached into the clear plastic box that sat on the front of Hux’s station. “And I see you still have quite a bit left. Eleven grand by my calculation, and Chef Ren should still have seven.”

Ren accepted the boxes and his mistake. He began to assemble them just as Hux rolled his last roll of silverware. The moment he was done, a member of the crew removed the bus tray from his station and Hux went back to whisking his batter. 

“Well done, Chef Hux. You might want to consider using your skills for good and helping out your competitor. He seems to be struggling.” Sure enough Ren was fumbling through constructing the first of four cake boxes. It was a put slot A in tab B style construction, but he was having trouble managing even that much in his rush. Hux shrugged at the suggestion and rolled his eyes. Ren was on his own. 

“Or not, this is a competition after all. I have one last item up for auction.” Yet another menacing contraption was wheeled in by the crew. It was bright red and sort of cylindrical. Hux was stumped, and Hux was pretty sure Ren had bothered to even look up from what he was doing. Ren was onto the second box but was still struggling. The first one looked exceptionally crumpled. Hux doubted this one was going to fair any better. 

“If you’re not familiar with what this is, I’ll tell you. It’s a cement mixer,” Phasma announced gleefully. “The losing bidder will have to mix their cake mix in this.”

“Two grand,” Hux added without hesitation. Cake should have a light, fluffy texture. There was no way Hux could avoid over mixing his ingredients while they spun around in a large, dark urn and were shoveled back and forth with a large trowel. 

“Chef Ren, do I hear two thousand, one hundred from you?” Ren nodded, still giving most of his attention to the final of the four boxes.

“Two five,” Hux jumped the bid. 

“Three thousand!” Ren had finally managed to put all the boxes together and was about to test them out. Hux was just starting to sift his dry ingredients together, but the sight of Ren trying to gently toss the boxes across the kitchen was definitely a distraction. Somehow Ren managed to make it to the back of the kitchen, leaping from box to box and leaving a wake of flattened cardboard behind him. 

Ren clearly found it distracting as well. Hux bid four thousand, and despite Phasma’s prompting, Ren didn’t advance the bid at all. 

“Alright Chef Hux, the cement mixer is yours to give to Chef Ren, unless of course, you’d rather keep it for yourself.”

“Absolutely not.” Hux was grateful Ren wasn’t paying attention. He had no sympathy for his competitor and didn’t feel any remorse for making Ren use the cement mixer. If anything Hux felt a little sorry for Chef Poe who was going to have to eat whatever god awful concoction Ren managed to finish by the end of the round. 

Hux agreed but wished Phasma would leave him be. At least the bidding was over. Hux was behind. It was going to be a rush to the end to begin with, but now there was no margin for error. If the cupcakes weren’t perfect, he was sunk. At least baking was methodical. He could measure and mix everything with assured precision. At least he got to move about freely. 

“Ah ah, Chef Ren, I saw that. You took two steps off those boxes, that means two hundred dollars is mine.” Ren swore in response to Phasma’s hawkish proclamation. “Oh my! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth Chef? You’re lucky I can’t fine you for bad language.

“Alright Chef’s your time his half over. That’s right, there’s just 30 minutes remaining. Time flies when you’re having fun.” Phasma shouted over the din of the cement mixer. Hux was just putting his cupcakes in the oven, and Ren was just about done mixing his ingredients.

Ren was struggling so badly, it was hard to watch. The cement mixer was front and center, so both Hux and the cameras could get a good look. The consistency of his batter inside the cake mixer seemed off. And Ren was having trouble moving the boxes and holding his tray of cupcakes without the batter sloshing all over the place. He’d finally settled for opening the lids of two of the boxes and stepping inside. Then he just slid them across the floor. It wasn’t particularly graceful, and Hux was almost positive that had to be against the rules since. 

“Cheater!” Phasma shouted. She didn’t sound outraged to Hux’s ears, rather she seemed amused. Hux saw her shrug off the infraction and go back to watch Ren struggle. Hux was miles of ahead of Ren despite his own delayed start. Ren’s creative use of the boxes wasn’t going to level the playing field all that much anyways. After the silverware, Hux was mercifully sabotage free. His cupcakes were out of the oven and mostly cool, and his frosting was coming along well. Hux peered over at Ren’s station. Ren’s cupcakes hadn’t quite survived the baking process. They’d come out somehow both burnt and uncooked. Hux could see that the tops of the cupcakes that hadn’t been cleared from Ren’s station were scorched, but when he went to remove one from the tin, the sides were still goopy. When Hux looked over again, it looked like Ren had smashed all of the cupcakes in a fit of anger. Hux could relate. He was sweating and practically dead on his feet. 

The competition had been a lot harder than Hux had thought it would be. He regularly spent 10 hours at his station preparing dish after dish after dish. There was rarely a lull, rarely a chance to take a break. And yet this competition was somehow more draining. Hux was ready to be done when Phasma counted out the final seconds. That was it. The round was over, and soon enough a winner would be declared. 

“Chefs, I have to congratulate you on making it this far. You two have both battled admirably, but only one chef can be the Cutthroat Kitchen Champion,” Phasma said seriously as Chef Poe appeared. “Chef Dameron, we’ve asked the two remaining contestants to make chocolate cupcakes. Chef Ren, please step forward and present your dessert.”

“Here you have my take on a Mexican chocolate cake. There’s a spicy cake crumble over a bed of rich chocolate frosting with a milk chaser. Enjoy.”

Ren, quick on his cardboard covered feet, must have decided that deconstructed cupcakes was only way to salvage the wreckage that had become of his cupcakes. Hux wasn’t sure how Chef Poe would feel about that. Again from watching past episodes, Hux knew that deconstructing a dish could hide a lot of flaws, but the judges always knew that was the point. Ren added a decorative swoosh of frosting to his long, skinny white plates, and then crumbled cupcake pieces over the top. Just off to the side, he’d included a shot glass of milk with a ring of cinnamon and a slice of strawberry as decoration. His and Hux’s two plates couldn’t have been more different.

Poe took his fork and dragged it along the plate, collecting a mound of frosting and cake crumble on the tines. He plopped the slice of strawberry on top and chewed thoughtfully in silence. He followed the bite of cake by downing the shot of milk . 

“Well Chef, I have to say I quite liked your cupcake, if you can really call it that. I wasn’t expecting something with a mountain of frosting and sprinkles on top. Actually I was hoping for something a little more substantial mostly because I wish I could have another bite. The balance between the spice of the chili and the subtle sweetness of the chocolate was spot on, and the little glass of milk as a palette cleanser was a great touch. Good job, Chef Ren.”

Ren beamed at that. He must have been really nervous, although if Hux hadn’t been witness to the disaster the last round had been for Ren, he wouldn’t have known. Hux gave Ren a smile. If the other chef could manage something that left Chef Poe Dameron wanting seconds, Hux could concede that Ren was much more talented than Hux had originally given him credit for. It had been equal parts fun and exasperating being on the show with him. Of course that didn’t mean Hux wanted anyone other than himself to win. 

“Well it seems that Chef Ren’s dessert is a hit, let’s see what Chef Hux has for you.”

Hux’s dessert much more closely resembled a cupcake than Rens. He’d cut a perfect round from the best cupcake that came out of his oven. He was left with a cylinder of dark cake that was topped with whipped cream and a single cherry. It sat artfully off-center on a round plate. Hux wanted it to speak for itself. 

“What you have in front of you is a German black forest cupcake. At its center you’ll find a cherry and brandy filling. It’s based on the recipe my mother used to make for special occasions when I was a child. My father swears this cake is the reason he married her.” Hux hadn’t really planned to share that last bit. His parents had had a tumultuous relationship at best, and he was honestly relieved when it ended in a bitter divorce. He still had fond memories of that cake and made one for himself every year on his birthday. Plus he’d gotten a job at a restaurant just after that. His mom was having trouble making ends meet, and he wanted to help. The world didn’t need to know that, but stories that tugged at the heartstrings usually helped contestants. Hu

“Wow that’s some cake. Are you hearing wedding bells Chef Dameron?” Phasma teased Poe while he sliced into the cupcake with his fork, careful to get the whipped cream, filling, and cake all in one bite.

“Well I have to admit, I’m not feeling inclined to propose, Chef Hux, but I can say your dad was a very lucky man. This was quite possibly the best German black forest cupcake, I’ve ever had. The ratio of cake, filling, and topping was just right. The brandy was present but not overpowering, and the cake texture light and fluffy. Remarkable job, Chef.“

“Wow, sounds like it’s a close call,” Phasma concluded. “I’m glad you have to decide and not me.” 

“She’s right, this was a very close one. You’ve both turned out stellar dishes today, and I have the sad duty of being the bad guy since I can only declare one of you the winner.” Poe looked genuinely saddened by that. 

“Alright Chef Dameron,” Phasma wasted no time, “who is the last contestant to be eliminated today?”

Poe took a deep breath before continuing. “Unfortunately, one dessert really shown over the other and for that reason, I have to eliminate Chef Ren.”

“I’m so sorry Chef Ren. Please surrender your remaining seven thousand dollars.” 

Ren stepped forwards with the meager bundle and handed it over. He looked accepting although not pleased as he shook Phasma and Poe’s hands. He even turned back to shake Hux’s hand.

“Good job, Chef. You deserved it.”

Hux was stunned by Ren’s words. He was even more stunned when the other chef used their joined hands to pull Hux into a crushing hug. Hux felt himself blush as his feet were lifted off the ground. Ren set him back down and then whispered into his ear. “You owe me dinner.” 

“Would you settle for dessert? I make a mean German chocolate cake,” Hux whispered back. Ren nodded quickly before their moment was over. They were both smiling, and Hux had to stare at his own feet as Ren exited to avoid looking at the camera and giving away everything about their brief exchange. Hux had no doubts the cameras and microphones had caught all of it anyways, but he didn’t really care. He’d won in multiple ways. 

_ “ _ Congratulations Chef Hux! You are today’s Cutthroat Kitchen Champion!” Phasma had her eyebrows raised and looked like there was a lot more she wanted to say. Hux brushed down the front of his coat, hoping he didn’t look rumpled and embarrassed. He felt like both. The sensation was replaced when Phasma handed him a stack of money. “Here’s your eight thousand dollars. Don’t spend it all in one place.” Phasma stayed for a brief handshake before clearing out to leave Hux to pose for the cameras and gloat.

_ “Coming into the kitchen I was confident that I would win, no questions. As the day went on, I was thrown for enough loops to question by own skills and sanity, but I’m incredibly proud to say that I’m a Cutthroat Kitchen Champion.” - Chef Hux  _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd I started writing this ages ago, long before The Last Jedi came out. I'm publishing it now, because I need some sort of external validation in my life.


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